


Oh Bloody Hell (and war)

by D7DK4



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:31:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D7DK4/pseuds/D7DK4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who said that you couldn't fall in love even when you were so blinded by your own pity and agendas that you were half mad? Who said that you couldn't fall in love even when you were hundreds, no, thousands of years old, and the other person in question was a selfish bastard? <br/>Who said, in the middle of the war of the 20th century, when the air ran poisoned and children stared at the bloody ruins of their parents, that you couldn't fall in love? <br/>Tell me, who said?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1 Pride of the British**

They are not human, most definitely not. They were immortal to an extent. They were strange creatures, obedient to their leaders, but were the first to turn their back during revolution. They are countries, who fight and cry and fall and love even more so than a human, representing everyone of them in their entirety. Of course, they had their own distinct personalities and quirks, and had vices and virtues. This is their story, of how they fought and befriended another in the war that changed the course of history forever.

WWII 1940. August, London, England.

The air was thick, hot, heavy with fire, smoke, and blood. France had fallen weeks ago, the cowardly frog. The sirens wailed. The ground trembled, and she doubled over in pain for a second, before gritting her teeth and forcing herself upright again. She wasn't supposed to be out when the bombs fell, but here she was. Nothing. She had nothing except for herself. And, believe me, that wasn't exactly much. Those cold, controlled blue eyes of Germany had briefly reminded her of herself, as he he fired again and again, the crack of the gun disappearing into the fucking mess that was her beautiful London. And just as easily, his tall, broad figure flickered in and out of her sight, until it faded away completely. " _Let us therefore brace ourselves to our_   _duties_ ," Even now, she could hear the screams. The tears. Fear, iron red blood, sweat, and burned skin. " _and so bear ourselves that, if the British Empire and its Commonwealth last for a thousand_   _years_ ," Throughout her cursed life, she remembered times when blood ran through the very ground. The price she had paid for becoming a country, for being great. " _men will still say, "This was their finest hour_ ". Was she tired? After months of continuous bombing, this was the battle royale. Fuck, she was tired.

Looking into the mirror, she admired her own handiwork. A deep cut on her forehead had been neatly bound, as well as a mending broken leg. After she had stumbled back home, she had scrubbed herself clean with what limited rations she had, something that she had a sad amount of experience with. Besides the fact she had dark shadows under her eyes, and a seemingly endless supply of sand in her boots, Alice could've been much worse off. She was still in London for the time being until the endless bombing finally ended, and then it was right back off to North Africa she went. Sitting down on her bed, she went through a series of papers telegraphed to her by the boss, and then went to get what little sleep she could have before being wracked by pain all over during the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Chapter 2 The Sad Arrival**

Winter of 1941

London was depressed. Everything had taken a dull gray sheen. She was more than willing to admit that she was fucked, and fucked bad. She was to go back to North Africa soon, but she was back in crash of the bombs, the sharp glass and bitter winds took on a harsh rhythm, and the air-raid sirens? A throbbing pain for all involved. Alice knelt to pick up a tattered, burnt book. The fact it survived at all was surprising. Ignoring the digging irritation of the rubble in her knees, she read out the title of the book. "A Child's History of England, by Charles Dickens." Ah, a school staple. What many people didn't care to think about was that Charles Dickens was a miserable, haughty sod. Alice supposed that it had been scattered in the mess, fallen from a human child's bookcase. Amid all the bent steel girders, half-crumbling bricks and splintered wooden planks, there were broken chair legs. Ragged jackets Silver forks and spoons. Some even had filigree rounding the edges, glinting in almost taunting remembrance of the family-for it was surely a family, there was an array of proof in the rubble-that had been broken. And Alice knew that they were dead. Standing up, she turned around, a silent rage building in her. " _Alba. Módor. Can you hear me? Your people's blood soaks the land again. You would be disappointed."_ Sighing, she turned away to get into the waiting car, but not without tucking the book under her coat.

Holding his head in his hands, Alfred fought back the urge to throw up again. He saw the blood coughed up on his sheets, but it was more than that. Without wanting it, without even having any right to ask, he could see those faces. Shit, yeah, he was young. But, in a weird, freaky, fucked-up way, they were children to him. Americans were the heroes. This wasn't supposed to happen to them. " _A day that will live in infamy_ ," his boss said. For a moment, Alfred felt what Alice must have felt. Day after day after day after day. One entire fucking year. " _And then some. Now, would you care for some tea?_ " Alice had looked almost cruel that day, the day his boss forced him to go to London to meet with British diplomats, and England herself. Alfred had scorned that place, the gray dump that was always had air-raid sirens and bombs raining down like some morbid drumbeat. It was utterly mind-numbing, everything, except for that one visit. Alice was supposed to suck up to him, after all, he'd helped her, and what? That cold, condescending look in her eyes. Even though she was corpse pale and was teetering on the edge of uncomfortably thing, she still managed to make him feel like a child again. Alfred had towered over her, and even then, he was still not her equal. She had been polite, yes, but Alfred had the uncomfortable feeling that she had been mocking him through those carefully worded entreaties. It didn't matter anyways. He was in the war, and he was going to make damn sure that he was the hero at the end of the day.

At that same exact moment, Alice was informed of the tragedy of Pearl Harbor, and how America had joined the war, and how she was also fighting with Japan. Her only recorded response was, "What a pity.".


	3. Chapter 3

Resisting the urge to do something painful to the younger country was goddamned impossible. "Loosen up a little, lady. Theres no need to worry now that I'm around." Clenching and unclenching her hands, she chose instead to sit back in her seat, legs crossed, and delicately sip her tea, little finger out. God knew that her older brother, Alistair hated it when she did that, and she knew that Alfred did as well. "Besides discussing my emotional state, which, of course, is always an activity I presume you Americans engage in like little girls, we have something more important to do. Like discussing how asinine your military strategies are." There were three of them, sitting in a dark room with two lanterns for weak, yellow light placed in the middle of the plain, boxy wood table. If there was proper lighting, it wouldn't have made a difference, because there was nothing to see except plain cement walls and ceiling and floor, and a dark green door. "Yes, let us discuss military strategies."A cool, soft voice cut in. Without meaning to, two pair of eyes immediately cut to the shadowed figure. Leaning forward, Ivan smiled, and placed his hands on the table, his fingers deliberately clenching and unclenching ever so slightly on the marked maps. Alice swallowed, resisting the urge to shoot the country right in the face. The Slavic nation had once been soft, and lonely. And not so broken. But that had once been her. They all once had been. Not, of course, the brat next to her who practically lunged himself right in Ivan's face, and practically yelling his demented plan right into Ivan's face. And daring him to retaliate with that great big smile on his face. Alice saw the bolt of shock that ripped through the Russian's mask, and saw how he just as quickly captured the shock and forced it into his eyes, and how his smile seemed just a bit colder.

And, oh, she did not miss the way those eyes cut to her, narrowing, before going back to pretending to listen to the American. She knew how she was known throughout the world for her...cunning. But seriously. There was simply no way she could have done this. This buffoon was his own creation, truly. Just so long as she let them think that she had even a thread of influence on him would be...useful, even though it really was the other way around. If she had her way, though, Alfred would never know just how very powerful he was. 

Standing up suddenly, she smiled as two pair of eyes swiveled and focused on her. Alice held up her cup of tea, and let go. The shatter of the porcelain was flat, as the room was, after all, cramped. Yet, it seemed to have the desired effect. She smiled thinly as one of the men leaned forward, and the other slightly backward, as she ground the heel of her boot into one of the shards. 

Ivan was smart. He was even tougher than she was, loath as she was to admit it.  
Alfred, on the other hand..."Hey, why'd you drop that?" Alice finally took out her red leather binder. "Gentlemen, we're now going to discuss my plans. I do believe that it is my turn." Alfred glared at her, and may have even pouted slightly. "Lady, what do you think-" Ignoring him utterly, she began to calmly and deliberately explain why the rest of them were fucking idiots, and how they could, with her help, maybe actually win the war. Even if they both didn't listen, it did worlds for her tender ego. 

Xiao Mei's eyes narrowed slightly at the stinging sweat that had eased its way into her eyes. She knew if she blinked that her throat would be cut, and then retreat. Again. She had lost a finger, and her long, straight, dirt-black hair, had been haphazardly hacked and twisted into a ponytail. "So, Xiao Mei. Do you feel humiliation? Shame? It would be better for you to surrender now. There is no escaping the inevitable." Dark brown eyes danced and darted until they met soft black ones. "Kiku Honda. I suppose you think that I am stupid. That your big sister knows nothing, foolish, stupid, big sister."Xiao Mei raised a hand and pointed at him, and spoke again, her voice sneering, "And I suppose you think that you are superior to everyone, aren't you, brat. You talk to all those countries with your soft voice, and they really are little more then dogs to you now, aren't they. You don't treat Little Sister much better then a maid, either." He showed no reaction, no inflection in his voice. "And while you have been busy talking, your people have all been killed." She quickly turned around, and she saw just bodies. None of her troops had been well-trained at all. It had been herding them to slaughter, to bring them here. The Japanese man grabbed her by the neck and slapped her once, whispering, "Your insolence will be remembered. I am trying to purify you, don't you see?"


	4. Chapter 4

Resisting the urge to do something painful to the younger country was...difficult. Very difficult. So much so, that even the idiot himself said that she was "a little tense, loosen up, you prude!" Clenching and unclenching her hands, she chose instead to sit back in her seat, legs crossed, and delicately sip her tea, little finger out. God knew that her older brother, Alistair hated it when she did that, and she knew that Alfred did as well. "Besides discussing my emotional state, which, of course, is always an activity I presume you Americans engage in like little girls, we have something more important to do. Like discussing how asinine your military strategies are." There were three of them, sitting in a dark room with two lanterns for weak, yellow light placed in the middle of the plain, boxy wood table. If there was proper lighting, it wouldn't have made a difference, because there was nothing to see except plain cement walls and ceiling and floor, and a dark green door. "Yes, let us discuss military strategies."A cool, soft voice cut in. Without meaning to, two pair of eyes immediately cut to the shadowed figure. Leaning forward, Ivan smiled, and placed his hands on the table, his fingers deliberately clenching and unclenching ever so slightly on the marked maps. Alice swallowed, resisting the urge to shoot the country right in the face. The Slavic nation had once been soft, and lonely. And not so broken. But that had once been her. They all once had been. Not, of course, the brat next to her who practically lunged himself right in Ivan's face, and practically screaming his demented plan right into Ivan's face. And daring him to retaliate. Alice saw the bolt of shock that ripped through the Russian's mask, and saw how he just as quickly captured the shock and forced it into his eyes, and how his smile seemed just a bit more unhinged.

And, oh, she did not miss the way those eyes cut to her, narrowing, before going back to pretending to listen to the American. She knew how she was known throughout the world for her _games._ But there was simply no way she could have done this. Just so long as she let them think that she had even a thread of influence on him would be...useful, even though it really was the other way around. If she had her way, though, Alfred would never know just how very powerful he was. Standing up suddenly, she smiled as two pair of eyes swiveled and focused on her. Alice held up her cup of tea, and let go. The shatter of the porcelain was flat, as the room was, after all, cramped. Yet, it seemed to have the desired effect. She smiled thinly as one of the men leaned forward, and the other slightly backward, as she ground the heel of her boot into one of the shards. Ivan was smart. He was a predator, if not somewhat insane. Alfred, on the other hand..."Hey, why'd you drop that?" Alice finally took out her red leather binder. "Gentlemen, we're now going to discuss _my_ plans. I do believe that it is my turn." Alfred glared at her, and may have even pouted slightly. "Lady, what do you think-" Ignoring him utterly, she began to calmly and deliberately explain why the rest of them were fucking idiots, and how they could, with her help, maybe actually win the war.

* * *

Xiao Mei's eyes narrowed slightly at the stinging sweat that had eased its way into her eyes. She knew if she blinked that her throat would be cut, and then retreat. Again. She had lost a finger, and her long, straight, dirt-black hair, had been haphazardly hacked and twisted into a ponytail. "So, Xiao Mei. Do you feel humiliation? Shame? It would be better for you to surrender now. There is no escaping the inevitable." Dark brown eyes danced and darted until they met soft black ones. "Kiku Honda. I suppose you think that I am stupid. That your big sister knows nothing, foolish, stupid, big sister."Xiao Mei raised a hand and pointed at him, and spoke again, her voice sneering, "And I suppose you think that you are superior to everyone, aren't you, brat. You talk to all those countries with your soft voice, and they really are little more then dogs to you now, aren't they. You don't treat Little Sister much better then a maid, either." He showed no reaction, no inflection in his voice. "And while you have been busy talking, your people have all been killed." She quickly turned around, and she saw just bodies. None of her troops had been well-trained at all. It had been herding them to slaughter, to bring them here. The Japanese man grabbed her by the neck and slapped her once, whispering, "Your insolence will be remembered." In return, she kneed him in the crotch and hit him in the eye with the butt of her gun. "And yours, Little Brother!" she screamed, and then disappeared into the surrounding jungle. War was something that didn't appeal to her. It was hell for a human. It was absolute agony for her kind. 


End file.
